#raven's underground discord

[bohamod]

Idk if it's different if you don't do it this way, but I'm thinking about how Ayre is screaming and crying at Raven about how they were the one who could've achieved symbiosis with humanity and coral in the Fires of Raven when you support the RLF in every relevant decision. She wants them SO bad she looks stupid when you're fighting her (I say despite having cried several times in the fight bc she's my wife)

Also in Alea Iacta Est when you're leaving the underground place I started having regrets about choosing this path bc the tone was so drastically different from literally every other moment in the game. Like I, the player, understood the whole time that commiting mass murder is bad and that is what we've been doing, but suddenly the game is throwing in your face what you're doing like it's different. The screams of "I mever should've come here", the whole facility burning down around you yet I felt no real sense of urgency, the fact that it felt like I was bullying the few remaining fools, and having to kill Pater who was falling apart really had me in my feelings (upon reflection I understood it wasn't actually any different from the rest of the game though). And in the pits of my emotions Ayre, my beloved wife who can do no wrong, comes in like "let's get moving Raven ignore these fools" and suddenly I'm a discord kitten hold on let me find the image

That was me and Ayre during that ending

[askaxetale]

Sable Shepard.

(revamped character introduction part 2/2. Made by FallenReaper, my cowriter on discord.)

How long? He didn’t know.

Since he went underground, the days blended into each other, indistinguishable. His church remained—a fragile sanctuary—filled with the children he cared for, his children. The nuns, the priest, the disbelievers… he didn’t mind. Even some of the children didn’t believe, but he didn’t mind.

It was just like it had been on the surface.

Yet, the past clung to him like a shadow.

The sins could never be washed away.

But he tried. He had to try.

Then, the rumors came. A plague. A sickness of the mind. It twisted monsters into cannibalistic creatures, reducing them to ravenous husks.

He said his goodbyes and left.

The royal guards needed help. He understood the mind—how it shattered, how it could be held together. With runes, he helped the people stay sane, if only by a thread.

But there was pain. Screams. The stench of death.

It was war again.

The weight of it crushed him. Memories flooded back, raw and vivid, as if they had never left.

His mind blanked.

He was there again, drowning in the echoes of the past.

A guard’s voice dragged him back. “You should rest.”

Rest.

He was HUNGRY.

He ate. It did nothing.

A pit opened inside him, deep and gnawing. He told himself it was stress and to lay down and sleep.

He didn’t know The Hunger had already begun to take hold of his mind.

Days passed. He worked. He forgot himself.

The hunger did not.

Then, it struck. A gnawing, endless void.

He ate and ate and ate. Yet, he remained empty. It clawed at his ribs, writhed beneath his skin.

He called it stress. He called it exhaustion.

A lie.

He understood the minds of others, but his own?

His own was lost.

That was the moment. The breaking point.

He became one of them.

The church.

It was the only thing left in his mind.

So, he went home.

The children ran to him, arms outstretched, warm and trusting. They welcomed him. Hugged him.

But he stood there.

Unmoving.

Silent.

The shadow of his fedora swallowed his eyes, masking the abyss beneath.

A nun hesitated. “Father…?”

He did not answer.

He lunged.

The massacre was instantaneous.

Brutal. Merciless. Mindless.

He devoured.

Flesh, blood, bone.

Nothing stopped him.

The screams tore through the church, ringing with more than just pain—grief.

They knew.

They knew what The Hunger was.

They knew what he had become.

And still, they called for him.

"Father—please—!"

He didn’t stop.

His hands, once gentle, tore through them.

His mouth, once a voice of comfort, drowned in their blood.

His home, his sanctuary—reduced to dust.

When the hunger faded, there was nothing.

Only silence.

He woke in a haze.

Dust clung to the air, swirling in the light.

Why was everything so... quiet?

Then, he saw her.

A broken, crumpled figure on the ground.

One of the first. His child.

An orphan. A nun.

Dying.

And then—he knew.

His mind collapsed in on itself.

The past and the present became one.

He had done it again.

The sin.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Why?

Why?

What had he done to deserve this?

All he had done was help.

Was it because he was a monster?

Then—a whisper.

Weak. Fading.

His child.

He fell to his knees, hands trembling, desperate to stop the inevitable. Runes flared to life beneath his fingertips, but they failed.

She was slipping away.

Slowly, trembling, she lifted a hand to his face, resting it against his cheek.

"Hang on," Egidius begged. "Please… hang on."

Her fingers, frail and cold, brushed against his tears.

She smiled.

"It wasn’t your fault…"

A breath.

A shudder.

Silence.

His arms fell limp.

He had sworn to protect them.

He had sworn not to lose them.

Yet, here he was.

Again.

His heart—if it could be called that anymore—shattered. If he had been any other man, the grief would have killed him where he sat.

As she turned to dust, he desperately tried to hold her together.

But she slipped through his fingers.

Gone.

He knelt there, hands clutching nothing but air.

The pain suffocated.

No thoughts. No words.

Just sorrow.

Just emptiness.

The sin had been sinned again.

A sound built in his chest. Low. Ragged.

Then—a scream.

A scream so raw, so shattered, it could pierce the heavens and drag God himself down.

But God was not there.

There was no salvation. No redemption.

Only dust.

Only silence.

He sat there.

The same sin.

The same fate.

In the ruins of his church, where dust floated like ghosts in the air, he stared at the ground.

For days.

Or months.

Or eternity.

He did not care anymore.

He wandered.

Mistveil was his domain. His hunting ground.

The mist swallowed him whole, cradling him like a specter. He was no priest.

Not anymore.

He drifted through the endless fog, a shadow barely tethered to existence. Conscious, but only just.

There was nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to save.

So, he gave up.

Now, he only ate.

The fog of Mistveil clung to him like a second skin, wrapping around his form, obscuring him. He had become part of the environment—an unseen predator lurking in the haze.

He ate when he needed to.

But sometimes, he lost himself.

The hunger took hold.

When he came to his senses, there was only blood. Only dust.

Nothing dared enter the mist of Mistveil.

It meant certain death.

When the beast awoke, the earth trembled.

A towering nightmare, eight meters tall, emerged from the fog.

Long, gnarled arms dragged against the ground, fingers stretching like blades—swords of flesh and shadow.

He did not have a set form. He was a creature of the elements, shifting, writhing—a body of water given monstrous shape.

But when he chose to take form, it was always the same.

Towering. Lurking. Death incarnate.

Long arms.

Long legs.

And a smile.

A smile so wide, so twisted, it could scare the devil himself.

Saliva dripped from his gaping maw, slow and viscous, pooling at his chin before vanishing into the mist.

His eyes burned like embers in the fog—a crimson glow that cut through the darkness.

A presence not to be challenged.

Not to be fought.

Not to be survived.

The mist was his domain.

And he was its executioner.

[allthingsroleplay]

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD -----------------------------

CHAPTER 2: THE MAGICIAN

Darkness begets darkness. It slithers through the narrowed cracks to fester and brood. Waiting, watching, and learning. In the weeks following the deaths in Aeon, angry fragments of shade clotted the dark recesses of Otherworld, their ire growing as they bided their time. Obscured ilk thrummed with starved excitement as a heavy shift in the world began, something was coming. Ravenous for violence, shadows flooded Otherworld in a rattling shift of movement, no longer flitting from one hidden corner to the next and instead surging like a wave. For some it was akin to a sharp breeze. For others it was a quaking rapture.

A new presence has erupted within Lunaris Point, clawing its way through the southernmost district of Otherworld.

THE NEST

The Crows have been suffering the disappearance of their leader and have now found their base, The Nest, ripped out of Ithil and embedded into Lunaris Point. Forced underground, The Nest sits at the very edge of the city, partially underneath The Wood. The entrance is mostly covered by rubble that has trapped whoever was inside.

THE BROKER

Something has taken up residence at Hostill, the ruined coliseum at the heart of Lunaris Point. At home among the shadow fiends, possessing some control over them in a way, this presence calls themselves The Broker. The coliseum has always been known for its tournaments and skilled competitions. Hostill, now plagued by shadow monsters, has upped the ante. The Broker boasts gifts to those who can survive going toe to toe with their shadow puppets.

THE RAVINE

Many holes have pitted into the flesh of Otherworld, the largest of them called The Ravine - for obvious reasons. Rumor is that this is where all the shadow fiends erupted from and what caused the shuddering that could be felt all through the city. Most advise to steer clear of this location as it is a hotspot for all manner of shadowed monsters.

-----------------------------------------

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD

[elennalore]

Loki associations in Tolkien's legendarium, part 2

[Part 1]

The Bound God: Loki’s similarities with Melkor

This post includes personal and fannish interpretations on the characters. CW for mentions of violence and torture (as described in their canon/myth – their fates are not nice).

In the Silmarillion, Melkor is said to be the mightiest of the Ainur, but his spiritual brother Manwë Súlimo is the one who becomes the High King of Arda. Loki, too, has an influential blood-brother in Odin Allfather, King of the Æsir. Like Manwë Súlimo, Odin is pictured as a ruling figure, sitting on a high seat where he can watch the entire world. Odin’s companions are his two ravens and wolves; while ravens work for Odin, Manwë has his eagles. Interestingly, Odin’s hall is called Valaskjálf. In Tolkien’s legendarium, a Vala mean a being similar to the Æsir in Norse mythology. (On the contrary, Odin’s famous byname Allfather has been given to the creator god Eru Ilúvatar in Tolkien’s legendarium; Ilúvatar means Allfather.) Relationship between Loki and Odin is rather complicated, just like the relationship between Melkor and Manwë. It’s clear that both Manwë and Odin care about their brother, but in the end, both of them end up using their power over their renegade brother, imprisoning them.

Already in the beginning, Melkor’s behaviour is very individualistic. Before the creation of the universe, he often wanders alone in void places, seeking the Imperishable Flame. It is said that he had a desire to create things of his own, and he was impatient. During the creation process, which is made by music, he makes music that is not harmonious with others, creating discord.

Loki can be seen as a Trickster god who is a boundary-crosser and breaks both physical and societal rules. Also, Melkor, going where no one else goes and disobeying the rules during the Music of Ainur, can be seen as a Trickster figure. Tricksters, like Loki, are often known to create disruptions that cause change. Melkor’s discord is a disruption to Eru’s plans, causing changes in the great plan. Still, it can be said that both Loki and Melkor’s influence is needed to prevent stagnation.

Odin gives Loki a place in Asgard, and Manwë allows Melkor to enter Eä. Neither of them is fully trusted, however. In Melkor’s case, he becomes openly antagonistic earlier; Loki stays with the Æsir and helps them (also plays tricks on them) longer before the eventual rift. Melkor continues to cause disruptions in the advanced creation of the world: he meddles in all that is done, and he is said to kindle great fires. In Asgard, Loki’s help is essential in creating protective walls around the place and giving the Æsir their most important weapons. Because of their actions, both Melkor and Loki are sometimes viewed as linked to chaos, although I personally see them rather linked to disruptions and change. But I agree there’s a certain Surtr-like chaos element in Melkor (Surtr is a jötunn connected to flames and chaos).

Soon after, Melkor builds his first underground fortress Utumno, and later, Angband. These places are connected with fire and volcanos, and also earthquakes. Many people connect Loki with fire even though there’s actually no mention of this in the Eddic sources. I’m going to return to this connection to transformative fire in the next part where I’ll discuss Mairon and Loki. In the end, when Loki is imprisoned underground, he is causing earthquakes with his movements. Melkor’s presence in a place creates volcanic eruptions.

Melkor causes universal destruction by destroying first the Two Lamps (the main source of light in the world), and later, the Two Trees. The destruction Loki causes is more mischievous or opportunistic, but he is also capable of causing a universal crisis, for example with his involvement in the capture of Idunn, the goddess of youth.

Like Loki, Melkor appears also as a thief. The theft of the Silmarils is a major event in the Silmarillion. At this time, Melkor is allied with Ungoliant, a monster in spider form. Loki is associated with spiders in shared personal gnosis, and eight-legged creatures in general.

One of Loki’s bynames is “Father of Monsters”. Loki is indeed a father of a couple of monstruous beings, and in one Eddic poem it’s said that Loki gave birth to the monsters. Melkor is also surrounded by monstruous beings. He creates Orcs and dragons. Balrogs that serve him might have been different kind of Ainur before Melkor’s influence changed them.

One of the famous myths about Loki is Loki’s quarrel where he goes to a feast where all the gods and some elves are celebrating and starts a quarrel by telling uncomfortable truths and basically irritating everyone present. Melkor, while in Valinor, causes unrest by telling lies or half-truths and makes Fëanor quarrel with his brother, causing a family feud.

But it’s in the eventual fate of both Melkor and Loki where their similarities are shown in an especially powerful way. In the end, The Æsir capture Loki and take him to an underground cave, bind him on a rock with the entrails of his own son and put a poison-dripping snake over him. There Loki writhes in torment until the end of the world, Ragnarök, when he becomes free and leads a monstruous army in the last battle against the Æsir. Melkor is similarly captured and imprisoned by the Valar and bound with the chain Angainor. His very own crown is made into a collar to bind him, keeping him in a painful position. Loki is cast underground, and Melkor is cast in the Void. But there’s a prophecy that Melkor will return one day and attack Arda, and that will be the last battle of the world.

Next: The Cunning God: Loki’s similarities with Mairon

[jcinktinder]

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD -----------------------------

CHAPTER 2: THE MAGICIAN

Darkness begets darkness. It slithers through the narrowed cracks to fester and brood. Waiting, watching, and learning. In the weeks following the deaths in Aeon, angry fragments of shade clotted the dark recesses of Otherworld, their ire growing as they bided their time. Obscured ilk thrummed with starved excitement as a heavy shift in the world began, something was coming. Ravenous for violence, shadows flooded Otherworld in a rattling shift of movement, no longer flitting from one hidden corner to the next and instead surging like a wave. For some it was akin to a sharp breeze. For others it was a quaking rapture.

A new presence has erupted within Lunaris Point, clawing its way through the southernmost district of Otherworld.

THE NEST

The Crows have been suffering the disappearance of their leader and have now found their base, The Nest, ripped out of Ithil and embedded into Lunaris Point. Forced underground, The Nest sits at the very edge of the city, partially underneath The Wood. The entrance is mostly covered by rubble that has trapped whoever was inside.

THE BROKER

Something has taken up residence at Hostill, the ruined coliseum at the heart of Lunaris Point. At home among the shadow fiends, possessing some control over them in a way, this presence calls themselves The Broker. The coliseum has always been known for its tournaments and skilled competitions. Hostill, now plagued by shadow monsters, has upped the ante. The Broker boasts gifts to those who can survive going toe to toe with their shadow puppets.

THE RAVINE

Many holes have pitted into the flesh of Otherworld, the largest of them called The Ravine - for obvious reasons. Rumor is that this is where all the shadow fiends erupted from and what caused the shuddering that could be felt all through the city. Most advise to steer clear of this location as it is a hotspot for all manner of shadowed monsters.

-----------------------------------------

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD

[therpdirectory]

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD -----------------------------

CHAPTER 2: THE MAGICIAN

Darkness begets darkness. It slithers through the narrowed cracks to fester and brood. Waiting, watching, and learning. In the weeks following the deaths in Aeon, angry fragments of shade clotted the dark recesses of Otherworld, their ire growing as they bided their time. Obscured ilk thrummed with starved excitement as a heavy shift in the world began, something was coming. Ravenous for violence, shadows flooded Otherworld in a rattling shift of movement, no longer flitting from one hidden corner to the next and instead surging like a wave. For some it was akin to a sharp breeze. For others it was a quaking rapture.

A new presence has erupted within Lunaris Point, clawing its way through the southernmost district of Otherworld.

THE NEST

The Crows have been suffering the disappearance of their leader and have now found their base, The Nest, ripped out of Ithil and embedded into Lunaris Point. Forced underground, The Nest sits at the very edge of the city, partially underneath The Wood. The entrance is mostly covered by rubble that has trapped whoever was inside.

THE BROKER

Something has taken up residence at Hostill, the ruined coliseum at the heart of Lunaris Point. At home among the shadow fiends, possessing some control over them in a way, this presence calls themselves The Broker. The coliseum has always been known for its tournaments and skilled competitions. Hostill, now plagued by shadow monsters, has upped the ante. The Broker boasts gifts to those who can survive going toe to toe with their shadow puppets.

THE RAVINE

Many holes have pitted into the flesh of Otherworld, the largest of them called The Ravine - for obvious reasons. Rumor is that this is where all the shadow fiends erupted from and what caused the shuddering that could be felt all through the city. Most advise to steer clear of this location as it is a hotspot for all manner of shadowed monsters.

-----------------------------------------

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD

[watusichris]

Lou Reed (Variety, 10/27/13)

Lou Reed died on this date 10 years ago, and Variety asked me to write an appreciation, which I re-post here. **********

From the remove of 47 years, it is difficult to adequately calibrate the impact of “The Velvet Underground and Nico,” the debut album by the New York band fronted by Lou Reed, who died Sunday at 71. Bearing a cover by Andy Warhol that could literally denude itself (“peel slowly and see,” the legend read), the LP was a shock to popular music’s system. It addressed topics – heroin addiction, sexual aberration – that had hitherto been taboo in popular music, and mounted Reed’s literally stunning lyrics in a matrix of molecule-rearranging noise. It is one of those few records of which this can be said: Nothing like it had ever been heard before, and it permanently altered notions of what was possible, and permissible, in rock music.

While Reed was capable of shaking the foundations of propriety with compositions like “Heroin,” ‘I’m Waiting For the Man” and “Venus in Furs,” and would push the boundaries even further with subsequent outbursts like “White Light/White Heat,” “I Heard Her Call My Name” and the orgiastic “Sister Ray,” he proved he was no one-trick pony. He was capable of penning the most tender and empathetic ballads in the rock canon – “I’ll Be Your Mirror,” “Pale Blue Eyes,” “I’m Set Free,” the astonishing “Jesus.” He also proved that he was a rock classicist at heart with such much-covered standards as “Sweet Jane” and “Rock and Roll,” the latter of which may be the definitive statement of the joy that lies at the heart of the music.

After Reed exited the Velvet Underground after years of infighting and discord in 1970, he embarked on a solo career that was characterized over its course by periods of extreme risk, infuriating sloth and intermittent brilliance. He wrested glam from the British with “Transformer”; took his own stab at rock opera with the lush, depressive “Berlin”; ground ears to pulp with his two-LP noise extravaganza “Metal Machine Music.” Using more conventional elements of rock music but seasoning them with his hectoring style, he forged such highly personal latter-day works as “Street Hassle,” “The Bells,” “The Blue Mask,” “New York” and “Magic and Loss.”

Because he was a thorny, restless and often reckless spirit who proceeded to the tattoo of his own drum, his work could succumb to abject failure: Witness his Edgar Allan Poe homage “The Raven,” his misbegotten collection of guitar pieces “Hudson River Wind Meditations” and his last release, 2011’s “Lulu,” a much-maligned collaboration with Metallica.

But such failures were ultimately understandable and could even be anticipated, since from the start of his career Reed’s rep, and ultimately his import, rested on his willingness to take chances. That was never a sure way to conquer the charts, but it was a route to change, and Lou Reed permanently altered the musical landscape. Seemingly answerable to no one and nothing other than himself and his own artistic impulses, he became, to his discomfort, an exemplary figure. His influence has long been a given; especially in the punk and post-punk era, dozens of bands embraced his sound and style. Watching early sets by such groups as L.A.’s Dream Syndicate was like watching young, half-formed performers groping towards their own essence, with Reed’s work as a road map.

As a personality, he could be prickly, harsh, forbidding; his confrontations with music journalists held the status of legend. The caricature is maintained in “CBGB,” the recent film about the New York punk club, in which a character called “Lou Reed” makes a cameo appearance, with fangs out. Reed played himself best. In Allan Arkush’s 1983 rock movie “Get Crazy,” he portrayed a rock star named Auden. It is not a great picture, but he elevated it with his presence. He gets the last word in the film, under the credits, singing, in his wobbling, drawling voice, a song called “Little Sister” – a heart-on-the-sleeve number with a corking, lyrical solo at its end.

It’s surprising, sweet, loving. But then, he was an artist of many dimensions, and surprise was so much of what Lou Reed was all about.

[rpgadverts]

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD -----------------------------

CHAPTER 2: THE MAGICIAN

Darkness begets darkness. It slithers through the narrowed cracks to fester and brood. Waiting, watching, and learning. In the weeks following the deaths in Aeon, angry fragments of shade clotted the dark recesses of Otherworld, their ire growing as they bided their time. Obscured ilk thrummed with starved excitement as a heavy shift in the world began, something was coming. Ravenous for violence, shadows flooded Otherworld in a rattling shift of movement, no longer flitting from one hidden corner to the next and instead surging like a wave. For some it was akin to a sharp breeze. For others it was a quaking rapture.

A new presence has erupted within Lunaris Point, clawing its way through the southernmost district of Otherworld.

THE NEST

The Crows have been suffering the disappearance of their leader and have now found their base, The Nest, ripped out of Ithil and embedded into Lunaris Point. Forced underground, The Nest sits at the very edge of the city, partially underneath The Wood. The entrance is mostly covered by rubble that has trapped whoever was inside.

THE BROKER

Something has taken up residence at Hostill, the ruined coliseum at the heart of Lunaris Point. At home among the shadow fiends, possessing some control over them in a way, this presence calls themselves The Broker. The coliseum has always been known for its tournaments and skilled competitions. Hostill, now plagued by shadow monsters, has upped the ante. The Broker boasts gifts to those who can survive going toe to toe with their shadow puppets.

THE RAVINE

Many holes have pitted into the flesh of Otherworld, the largest of them called The Ravine - for obvious reasons. Rumor is that this is where all the shadow fiends erupted from and what caused the shuddering that could be felt all through the city. Most advise to steer clear of this location as it is a hotspot for all manner of shadowed monsters.

-----------------------------------------

FORUMS - GUIDEBOOK - DISCORD

[randomnameless]

Oh!

Aurora was eventually discovered by Professor Morrigan [fan character], who rushed Aurora to Archbishop Rhea because she was on the brink of death. As the child recovered from her wounds, Rhea decided to adopt her.

Rhea : hears about an injured kid

“I’m going to save that child and adopt her!”

Seteth, in the background : 

“Mother, just why.”

When she was 18 years old, she decided to enroll into the Officers Academy as a Black Eagle student in order to spy on Edelgard as well as to learn about the condition that the Adrestian Empire was in.

I’m wondering, is she spying on Edel because Rhea asked her, because she thinks there’s something wrong or she is planning something, or it’s some sort of feelings she still has about the Imperial Family after Hrym was, uh, put out?

She eventually met a woman named Nemain [fan character], who persuaded her into joining a revolution against the Adrestian Empire’s government as her champion. Nemain also helped Aurora learn about Edelgard and Hubert’s crimes during their time at the Officers Academy.

Adrestian civil war AU yay!

I always wondered about the rest of the nobles, living in Adrestia, would they agree with Supreme Leader, why no one in Adrestia tried to pull a Rodrigue, especially since Ferdie mentionned only a few nobles believed in MAGA, people riotted when Ionius tried to centralise power, but we’re supposed to believe everyone was A-OK when Supreme Leader did the same thing through her shitty coup against Ludwig?

(or maybe all dissenters were Hubert’d)

Granted, I wonder who is Nemain’s character, encouraging someone to start a civil war seems to be an Agarthan modus operandi

Similarly to Jeralt, Rhea performed a blood transfusion on Aurora. However, out of fear of the five-year-old dying, Rhea gave her much of her Nabatean blood. This altered Aurora physically when she grew up.

Seteth, again, in the background

“Maybe I should try those relaxing herbs.”

But yeah, I always HC’s that Nabateans giving too much blood to humans might alter them more - it gives them more power, but still not to the extent of a full Nabatean, a Nabatean hybrid or whatever the fig are the cardinals!

(does she have pointy ears?)

Morrigan is the professor of the Black Eagles. She is also Nemain’s clone, who created her to hopefully continue her legacy after she died. If she died.

Oh?

Morrigan uses dark magic

Is she an agarhtan?

They are also capable of transforming into ravens.

Or not ? Is it a magic transformation?

While Flayn was abducted, Aurora felt very angry when Nemain told her about Edelgard finding Professor Jeritza and placing him in House Hrym, gifting him “hunting grounds”.As soon as Aurora located Jeritza [a.k.a. the Death Knight], without a word to anybody, she rushed to fight him as well as his lackeys. She was victorious, but, she almost died.

You don’t say!

For a former member of house Hrym, seeing Emile slaughter people in her former, stolen house should really piss her. Add to that how he targets her new family? 

Nemain convinced Aurora to be silent about Edelgard and Hubert's actions in order to "preserve" what relationship the Adrestian Empire had with the Church of Seiros. After all, if the Church of Seiros knew what they had done, they could turn their backs on the Adrestian Empire entirely out of distrust. Which could result in Aurora being disowned since she was Adrestian.

At least, that was what Nemain said.

Wait if she’s a clone of an Agarthan it’d make sense to sow discord between the CoS and the Empire - but it’s still hidding elements that could have prevented some events, like the pillage in the Holy Tomb or the attack of the monastery - if those events happened in your AU?

I wonder what is Nemain’s goal.

Nemain and Morrigan are actually Agarthans. Nemain was the leader of Thinis until she sealed herself underground alongside Morrigan in order to protect themselves from Sothis’ wrath.

Nemain eventually overthrew Thales to continue ruling the Agarthans in Shambhala, promising their return to the surface.

I called it lol

Oh, so Thales is running a parallel organisation to the rest of Agartha? Is Nemain trying to reason with Rhea and ask her if they could please live on the surface?

Nopes wise, we know Rhea isn’t opposed to this idea, since she can hire Barney even is she knows they have ties to Agartha. Where was Thinis? In Fodlan or in another country (maybe Morfis??)? Does Rhea know they’re agarthans?

No problems, you can rant as much as you want lol! I really like to read hcs or AUs ideas about Fodlan - especially if it concerns Nabateans! - so your setting is very interesting - more factions in Adrestia and in Shambala!

if you ever write a fic i’ll be sure to read it lol!

Hello! I just wanted to ask if it would be fine if I discussed with you about fan fiction stuff? There's a lot of Adrestian Empire, Agarthan, and Nabatean stuff going on in mine, and I enjoy reading your analyses regarding those topics. I understand if not, though! Aside from that, I hope that you have a good day!

Hi!

No problems, you can discuss right away ! Go ahead!

I like to hear/read rational thoughts regarding Adrestia and Nabateans in particular, but why not on Agarthans too!

[chasseuses]

@beheadedruler @ghostiebabey @multi-fandom-weirdo @twistedlymad @twisted-eels @eclipsezero

gotta curse your eyes the second time you'll never unsee this

[coinandcandle]

Hello there! I was wondering, do you happen to have any resources on Italian folk magic or witchcraft? I am a baby witch of Italian heritage and have been trying to reconnect with some of my family’s old practices, but finding information is surprisingly difficult or ends up dipping into Roman paganism which I’m not sure is the same thing or not. Thank you!

I am also of Italian heritage and it has been a struggle to find anything on Italian folk magic that isn't just Wicca with parmesan sprinkled on it!!

I will say that Raven Grimassi has been quoted often for Italian witchcraft but from what I know he just sorta created his own thing (or based it on personal beliefs) and marketed that as traditional Italian witchcraft.

A lot of Italian folk magic is going to involve Christianity, so be prepared for that. It is also going to be reminiscent of roman paganism because that's just how culture works; it melds together over time and the religions and beliefs of the past never fully disappear.

I would look into Italian cunningfolk/folk healers as well as Italian folk medicine and folklore. Also, try to contact people who practice Italian folk magic.

I'm part of a discord server dedicated to folk magic of all sorts called the Woodland Folk server and here are some of the resources they have about Italian folklore:

kitchenofmae's Helpful Tips & Resource Reccomendations for Italian Folk Magic

They also have a downloadable pdf of Mary-Grace Fahrun's Italian Folk Magic: Rue's Kitchen Witchery and The Tradition of Segnature. Underground Indigenous Practices in Italy

If you practice or know someone who practices Italian folk magic please link your/their accounts!

[batverse-dcu-server]

welcome...

the gotham underground remains perpetually set in constant conflict. heroes descend from different planets, different countries, and even from the very belly of the beast.

DCU : Batverse is a brand new 18+ dcu server open on discord. batverse-orientated, and open to characters from the robins, to the titans, to any set of villains. this is a fully literate server, with in-character chat rooms, variety of locations, and open to cast-canon characters. ocs are not allowed. role-players are not bound to any certain lore, and can pick and choose what they want to design their muse to the best of their ability, and within reason.

almost every single character is open, including...

harley quinn

dick grayson

raven

barbara gordan

tim drake

bruce wayne

and more...

mod applications are also currently open.

message this blog for the server link.

[askweisswolf]

The Last Enemy That Shall Be Destroyed (Clexa, The 100 AU)

I have no justification for this.

Major thanks @kokkoro who let me scream on Discord about this idea and @moczothe1st who lent his wonderful Batverse expertise because what I know of the lore is so small it could fit into a thimble.

AO3 link

It was moments like these where Clarke realized it’d be so much easier to let go.

There was darkness dancing around the corners of her vision and she tasted blood on her tongue, and everything hurt. She’d fallen, she thought--fallen too far, broken something. Another fight, another misjudged jump, another gadget malfunction. She couldn’t remember; her brain had gone fuzzy alarmingly fast. All she knew was she was on the ground when she wasn’t before, and everything hurt.

God. It’d be so easy.

She could just close her eyes, she thought. It wouldn’t be hard; the darkness was already there on the edge, waiting for her like an old friend. She could just close her eyes, and the pain would stop. Raven was shouting somewhere in her ear and well, okay, that was rude, but she was so tired and everything hurt so it was easy to ignore it.

It’d be so easy. All she had to do was close her eyes.

(This was what Clarke remembered, always:

She remembered Jake lunging for the gun the moment it was aimed at his wife and child.

She remembered Abby shoving her behind her body even as her husband fell and died in front of her.)

She groaned, bringing her hand to her earpiece. “Jesus, Raven, I’m right here.”

It came out wrong--slurred and ragged and she coughed up something wet and warm with it--but Raven laughed and it almost sounded like crying. “Holy fuck, Clarke--”

“Please tell me we got something from that. I don’t think I can do it a second time.” She couldn’t remember what it was right now and that was a little alarming, but she absolutely knew whatever it was she couldn’t do it again.

“I’ll look at the data in a second, okay, I’ll look at it all when you get back, I promise. Just stay awake, Wells is on his way right now.”

“Mkay.” Clarke’s hand fell away and she sighed, gingerly rolling over onto her back and gripping her ribs as she turned her gaze to the stars overhead.

She didn’t close her eyes.

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Clarke was counting the stars in the sky when Wells arrived. His car was silent--it always was--so she tilted her head slightly to watch him pull up and park as close to her as he dared. She managed a weak smile, gave a small salute, and tried to ignore how wet his responding chuckle was.

He knelt down next to her, but he didn’t touch yet. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.” It should have been funny, she wanted it to be funny, but the sigh those words came out on hurt too much for her to try. “I think… brain’s still a little fuzzy, but my chest took the worst of it. Landed on my side. Might have banged my head, since I can’t think clearly.”

Wells took her words for what they are; he finally reached out, gingerly urging her to sit up and slinging her arm over his shoulders. “I’ll take a look when we get you home,” he promised. “Just gotta get through the next few minutes, okay? One, two—“

Clarke lurched up before three, but Wells braced himself and went up with her, tightening his grip on her wrist and resting a tentative, steadying hand on her hip, mindful of her side. Her legs held for a single, hopeful second before ultimately betraying her, and she leaned on her best friend like he was the only thing keeping her steady, felt the way he leaned back into her to support her.

Wells Jaha, her rock.

If only he knew.

“Sorry,” she managed, once she could catch her breath.

Wells shook his head. “I’ve got you. Just relax.”

“My bike—“

“I’ll pick it up later. Let’s go home, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded tiredly, nuzzling into the space where Wells’ neck met his shoulder, and she finally closed her eyes.

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Clarke’s sleep was dark and dreamless, and when she finally managed to open her eyes again she was back home, true to Wells’ word.

Or, well--she was under home, if she wanted to be technical about it. As she blinked blearily, she could tell that from the sound alone; the faint roar of the distant waterfall and the steady, soothing drip of water on rock, the low hum of the underground stream. For all intents and purposes the cave was basically a part of home at this point, so she more or less considered it the same thing.

As her gaze finally cleared and sharpened, she became aware of the fact someone was beside her. She didn’t have to even tilt her head to figure out who it was; the pure aura of anger she could feel prickling next to her gave away who it was immediately. “If you want to say I look like shit, Wells already beat you to it,” she said, figuring the words couldn’t make anything worse .

“It’s almost like you look like shit because you didn’t wait for me,” Octavia snapped, and Clarke finally accepted the inevitable and tilted her head slightly to look at the other woman seated next to her. The brunette had taken off her mask and had tucked away her crossbow, but it didn’t do anything to help the fury blazing in her eyes.

Clarke grimaced and shifted on the cot Wells had settled her on, holding up both hands carefully. “You were dealing with a raid,” she began. “Even if I had called for you, by the time you would have made it to me--”

“Bullshit, I know the city like the back of my hand and you know it. I could have been there in a few minutes, tops. You just couldn’t be assed to wait.”

“This was a huge tip, okay? I had to move on it while it was still fresh. And it worked out, didn’t it? I still got the information.” Clarke paused, pressed her lips together. “Plus, considering the welcome I got in that warehouse, I don’t know how much having you with me would have helped.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Octavia told Wells as he came back from the massive computer Raven was hunched over, furiously working and ignoring her three old friends. “I’m sorry you went through so much trouble to bring her back here.”

Wells paused, looking between them for a moment. “Can I at least check her over before you kill her?”

Clarke groaned. “Wells.”

Octavia leaned back in her chair, wordlessly giving the man permission. Wells stepped up to Clarke’s side, and the blonde instinctively straightened up as he flicked on a flashlight and skimmed it over her eyes, lingering for a moment before he tucked it away. “She isn’t wrong,” he finally said. “You should have waited.”

“Wells--”

“Now you have a minor concussion and a few broken ribs for your trouble. You’re not dead, so there’s that, and maybe you’re right and her presence wouldn’t have helped, but you know what? It couldn’t have hurt.”

There was nothing Clarke could think to say in response to any of that; nothing she could say to that, so instead she huffed quietly and slumped back into her pillow. Beside her, Octavia let out a low whistle. “Damn, Jaha,” she said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You’re acting like I’ve never gotten hurt before,” Clarke finally sighed.

“You’ve gotten hurt before, you’ve never been reckless before,” Wells snapped back. “The information was good, but you wouldn’t have lost anything by waiting five or ten minutes for Octavia to back you up.”

Clarke chewed her bottom lip, before she finally shifted carefully and nodded. “You’re right,” she conceded. “I got… excited, and I rushed into this without thinking. I’m sorry.”

Octavia let out another whistle. “Damn, Jaha. Can you tell me what your secret is? Every time I try to get her to admit she’s wrong it’s like pulling teeth.”

“Fuck off, Octavia.”

Octavia grinned, getting to her feet. “You love me. You’ll be taking it easy for at least a day or two with those injuries?”

Clarke’s immediate response was to open her mouth and say no, she wasn’t about to do any such damn thing because the city’s underbelly was hardly going to stop running just because she’d gone and gotten herself hurt, but a look from Wells made the words turn to ash on her tongue. “A couple hours,” she said. “Maybe a day. I can still do some light patrolling, right?”

Wells sighed. “Let’s see how that concussion clears up first.”

The blonde smirked, unable to resist. “And you always said you never wanted to be a doctor.”

He chuckled. “We do what we have to.”

“Damn right we do.” Clarke shifted her head slightly, peering at where Raven still was by the computer--Octavia had lovingly dubbed it the Bat-Computer, but the other woman absolutely refused to let the name stick. “We get anything worthwhile from that information, Rae?”

“Si, jefa. As usual, I’m a genius. You’re welcome.” Raven stood up from the chair and pulled the drive out, making her way over to her friends. “Took a little bit of cleaning up to get a decent look at it, but here you go. All the proof you need that Carl Emerson has been selling those modified weapons circulating through the black market recently.”

It was really just confirmation of what they all already knew, and in the grand scheme of things Emerson was ultimately a bit player, but it was a small thread weaved into a much grander whole, and Clarke would take what she could tonight. Hurting like this, she needed a win. “You’re the best.”

“I always am, babe, keep up.” Raven took a moment to look Clarke over, subtly shifting her weight off of her bad leg; it always started to ache if she spent too long working, but she could ignore it for a little longer. “We can probably run this to someone and still get an official arrest. You up for that, or…”

Clarke wanted to say she was, because she knew exactly who was waiting for this information and she wasn’t sure Octavia would play nice with her; the brunette was blunt at the best of times with people who weren’t involved in her inner circle, and Commissioner Kane had developed a thick skin for it over her years of activity in the city, but an outsider would definitely be present at the drop off tonight. Besides that, the information had been given to Clarke, not to Octavia, and her pride demanded she be the one to finish what she’d started.

Clarke wanted to say she was up for it, but she felt the burn as she breathed and could only imagine the kind of headache she’d get from trying to move that much so soon after hitting her head, and beyond all of that she was pretty sure that if she did say it Wells and Octavia would team up and finally kill her.

What Clarke said instead, with a deep sigh that almost made her ribs ache, was “Octavia, don’t make me regret this.”

“Hey now.” Octavia plucked the drive from Raven’s hand. “I can play nice when I have to. It’s just Kane, right? I’ve worked with him a million times now. I’m actually starting to like him.”

“It won’t just be Kane tonight. So please actually be nice? At least try to be?”

Green eyes slowly narrowed, looking the blonde over. “Who else will be there?”

“Well, the person who passed that information to me, for one. She might help us out more in the future, so again, be nice. Please.”

“You’re being oddly tight lipped about this.” Octavia glanced between Raven and Wells. “Either of you know anything about this?”

Raven held up both hands, backing off. “No, nope, I’m not getting involved. I already told Clarke this was potentially a bad idea, I’m not having that argument again. I’m going home now that my work is done, because unlike you losers I actually have a stable romantic partner who enjoys my company.”

Wells sighed. “No one you’d know,” he told Octavia. “I can vouch that she’s clear, though. Even if Clarke got reckless tonight to have some results for her.”

“Traitor,” Clarke groaned.

“That tells me a whole lot of nothing, but fine. I’ll go and I’ll play nice, whatever that even means because neither of you are telling me anything about this supposed new contact.” Octavia paused. “And I’m going as I am. I’m not playing dress up again to be you.”

Clarke chuckled, closing her eyes. “Oh, man. We haven’t done that in awhile.”

“We’re never doing it again if I have any control over it.”

“You two are idiots,” Raven cut in, but her voice was affectionate as Clarke opened her eyes again--she wasn’t going to risk keeping them closed for too long at the moment. “If that’s all settled, I’m going to head out. I think I’ve done all I can for tonight.”

The blonde tilted her head, smiling tiredly at the Latina. “Good work tonight, Raven. You really came through.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that every time.” The words were softened by the kiss the other woman pressed to her forehead. “Try and get some sleep, jefa. I’ll see you later?”

“Always.”

“Good. See you later too, Wells. Don’t kill anyone, Octavia.”

Wells gave Raven a small wave at the same time as Octavia flipped her off. Raven responded to both of these gestures with a blown kiss, and then she was gone. Octavia studied where she’d been for a moment, then dropped her hand to Clarke’s shoulder and squeezed. “I agree with what she said,” she murmured. “Try and get some sleep, Clarke. You look like you really need it.”

“That hurts. That’s hurtful.”

“It’s supposed to hurt, I’m trying to shame you into sleeping.”

“You’re such an ass.” But Clarke’s hand came up and found Octavia’s, squeezed reassuringly.

“You’ve known that about me for years.” Octavia lingered a moment, then pulled away. “I’ll head out then for this meeting with Kane and your mystery informant. Usual place, right?”

“Mm, yeah. Top of the precinct near the signal. They’ll be expecting me, so you won’t have to wait for them.”

The brunette grinned. “The Bat Signal?”

Clarke groaned. “Go. I’ll--try to get some sleep.”

Octavia left--finally--with a promise to send Clarke a message in the morning letting her know how the meeting had gone. The blonde took a quiet breath, tilting her head slightly to look at the man who was left sitting beside her. “Hey,” she said, finally giving in and letting exhaustion seep into her tone. Letting pain seep into her tone because God, she hurt.

“Hey,” Wells answered, his eyes soft.

“Do I still look like shit?”

That got a laugh out of him, even if it sounded as exhausted as she felt. “A little, yeah. It’s not as bad as when I found you, but…”

“That’s fair.” Clarke sighed. “Help me up? I think the world’s going to spin if I try to do it myself.”

Wells was already getting to his feet before she even finished speaking; when she held out her hand, he took it without any hesitation. They’d done this now a thousand times, and there was no doubt in either of them they’d be doing it a thousand times more as he pulled her up, easily slinging her arm over his shoulders and bracing his hand against her back to help steady her as she staggered on her feet for the second time that night.

“Thanks,” the blonde managed, when the pain from moving faded enough for her to be able to manage words. “Wells?”

“Yeah, Clarke?”

“You can pick up my bike tomorrow. Can you just… stay with me tonight? Please?”

Clarke knew she didn’t need to ask, not really. Wells had been by her side when her parents had been buried on a cloudy, rainy day, and he hadn’t complained when she’d held his hand so tightly she was sure it had to hurt. He’d had his chance to leave when she’d been seventeen and struggling to breathe, and yet he’d chosen to stay. She didn’t need to ask him every time.

Yet, a part of her still needed the confirmation. The reminder that after everything, he was still beside her and ready to keep going with it.

“Of course.” His voice was steady, like always. “Come on, lean on me. We’ll deal with everything in the morning.”

It may not have been the ending to her night Clarke had wanted, but it wasn’t the ending it could have been. She was willing to take it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She’s late.”

From most people, that would have been an accusation; when Anya said it, it was simply a statement of fact. Lexa watched her breath mist in the late night--early morning? She didn’t know what time it was, she hadn’t brought her phone with her--air, and didn’t reply. The words weren’t meant for her.

Marcus Kane’s eyes were still trained on the signal he’d lit, patient. “She’ll come,” he said.

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will. If she doesn’t, Huntress will instead.” Marcus shrugged, finally shifting his eyes to look at the women. “One of them will come.”

Lexa’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t give that information to Huntress,” she said. “I gave it to Batwoman, and I expect Batwoman to be the one coming to us with the results.”

“You’ll have to learn to live with disappointment, then.”

Anya’s entire body stiffened at the same time Lexa’s heart jumped at the unfamiliar voice. She wasn’t even sure where the new person had come from; she seemed to have simply materialized from the shadows, and the only thing that gave her away was the gleam of her eyes and the splashes of purple and white against the black of her suit.

Marcus smiled slightly; in comparison to his companions, he actually seemed to relax at the sight of their visitor. “Huntress.”

Huntress--not Batwoman--glanced at him, dipping her head slightly in greeting. “Commissioner.” Her eyes slid past him, focusing on the man standing quietly near the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed. It might have been a trick of the dark, but Lexa swore her gaze actually softened when she looked at him. “Officer.”

Keeping watch by the door, Lincoln lifted his hand in response to her acknowledgement, and now Lexa knew the night was playing tricks on her because she could have sworn the large, usually quiet and reserved man actually smiled slightly. She and Anya shared a glance, communicating without a single word.

“Anyway.” Huntress reached into her belt, flipping open a pouch. “I’ve got the flash drive right here. Batwoman got the information and it’s all been cleaned up for your use. I think you’re going to like what it says.”

Lexa looked the other woman over. Of the two vigilantes that called Arkadia home, she’d ultimately chosen to reach out to Batwoman for a reason; by all accounts Huntress was steady enough and trusted by the people of the city, but she had a ruthless streak that her companion didn’t share. Lexa had wanted to get her information, preferably without any blood on her hands if she could manage it, and she’d known Batwoman was the best chance she had of accomplishing that.

Instead of Batwoman, though, it was Huntress who had returned with the information.

Before Lexa could let her train of thought reach its logical conclusion, her eyes met the other brunette’s. Huntress looked at her for a moment, then at Anya, then back at Lexa again before she snorted. “Ah,” she said. “I see. You’re the informant she was being so tight lipped about, I assume?”

Lexa’s eyebrows went up, but she stepped forward and accepted the flash drive when Huntress held it out to her. “I didn’t know she mentioned me.”

“She didn’t mention you at all besides saying you’d be here, that was half the problem.” She rolled her eyes when Anya’s gaze hardened, her mouth beginning to open; the vigilante held up a hand before she could speak. “Relax,” she said. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about either of you besides the fact that you’re new, and frankly I don’t care to know who you are. Bats is the one who plays nice with you types.”

Anya didn’t relax an inch. “You seemed perfectly fine with the Commissioner and Forest.”

Huntress shrugged. “I’m used to them, so I tolerate them now. It’s not personal. If that’s all, can I go? I was just supposed to drop this thing off, not have tea and a friendly chat.”

What a charming woman.

Anya rolled her eyes at the same time Kane gave an amused, almost tired shake of his head, and Lexa could have sworn Lincoln was actually trying to muffle a laugh back by the door into the building as Huntress turned away to head back out. After that exchange it was terribly tempting to keep quiet and let the other woman go on her way, but…

“Is Batwoman okay?”

That made Huntress pause, and she turned back around to give Lexa a quiet look. The other brunette met her gaze evenly, even as she could feel her temper beginning to fray along the edges. She’d given the information to Batwoman assuming that it would be an easy enough task that would end with nobody dead, and now there was a very real possibility that she had been wrong. Lexa hadn’t been in Arkadia for long, and her partnership with the other vigilante was recent, but the thought still sat poorly with her.

Eventually Huntress decided she must have liked what she saw as Lexa continued to hold her gaze, because she finally sighed. “She’s fine,” she said. “If you’re out and about tomorrow night I’m sure you’ll see her again.”

That was all Lexa was going to get out of her, it seemed, because right after she said those words she just--stepped off the building like it was nothing. Lexa’s heart briefly flew into her throat before she heard the whistle of a grappling hook, and then Huntress was gone almost as silently as she’d come.

There was a beat of silence.

“She seems nice,” Anya said at last as Kane made his way over to her and Lexa, taking the flash drive from her when she offered it.

“She’s kept us safe for years,” Kane replied, his tone even but firm; Anya got the hint and kept her mouth shut, though Lexa could see the way she briefly clenched her jaw. “We should go inside and take a look at this. Knowing Batwoman it’s been cleaned up, but it could still be a lot of information to work through. The sooner we get through it the better.”

Lexa wordlessly agreed. She’d come this far to get what she had in her hands now; hopefully, she only needed a little bit more to see things through to the end. She didn’t know what came for her after this was all done--she’d never let herself think that far ahead--but she knew she was getting closer to it, step by step. It would do her well to go inside as quickly as Anya had followed after Kane and Lincoln, blowing into her hands to try and bring some warmth back into her body after almost an hour of the night chill.

Instead she lingered by the door, letting her eyes gaze out over the city that was either tucked away peacefully in sleep or just starting to stir in the early morning. She waited, hoping against all hope that maybe, just maybe Huntress would be wrong and Batwoman would somehow magically materialize in front of her. The other woman’s words had been less than helpful, and Lexa had always had an awfully vivid imagination.

(Nia had been counting on that.)

Lexa waited, but Batwoman didn’t appear, and with one final look out over the city the brunette stepped inside and closed the door behind her, taking a moment to rub her eyes before she checked the lock and headed downstairs to see what information they now had

Sleep could wait. There was still work to be done.

[ladysoulthorn]

The Basics — -

Full Name: Lady Nyxaria Soulthorn

Age: 120

Birthday: Mid-to-late Spring (End of April)

Race: Ren’dorei 

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Marital Status: Married

Physical Appearance — -

Hair: Dyed black, formerly violet

Eyes: Pale blue

Height: 5ft4in (162.56cm) 

Build: Slender and of a softer build usually denoted of caster types. She carries more weight in her hips, belly, rump and thighs. 

Distinguishing Marks: Several runes have been carved into her flesh but most can be hidden by clothing. Her most visible would be the Taam rune on her right palm if she isn't wearing gloves. She has several tattoos across her body as well. ( Taam | Tattoos ) 

Common Accessories: Jewelry ranging from rings to earrings to necklaces, a choker containing a soul-stone clutched between the skeletal fingers of the charm, ( Choker charm reference: X ), a travel satchel containing various spell components, a pair of dark silk gloves.

Likeness: Emeraude Toubia

Personal — -

Profession: Entrepreneur & Tavern (Co)Owner (public/common knowledge), Leader of Malum Discordiae (public/common knowledge) , Necromancer (not public/common knowledge)

Hobbies: Woodworking / wood carving, bone carving, collecting literature on most genres, shallow dabbling in different forms of music, tending to the varying gravesites among Duskwood, Elwynn, & Stormwind.

Languages: Common (semi-fluent), Thalassian (fluent), Darnassian (fluent), Orcish (semi-fluent) 

Residence: Multiple; public records offer an address to a mainland manor in Elwynn Forest. Other residences are kept private.

Birthplace: Undisclosed at the time.

Religion: Follows no particular religion present, but seems to hold a reverence for Death itself and some philosophies regarding it. 

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Enslavement, abandonment, losing her sense of self, open flame, Holy magic    

Criminal Record: While she carries a long list of committed crimes, no official charges have been made as of yet. There rumors ranging from necromancy, to thievery, to drug trafficking, to theft/selling of illegal or cursed items.  More recent rumors would be accusations of a poisoned wine and the hired, attempted assassination of an inquisitor of the Church.

Relationships — -

Children: Several; most known are her older children— Elora, Sascha, and Nyimi. Most are adopted, very few are her children by blood. 

Parents: Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother; whereabouts of both are unknown

Siblings: Tarvasha Winterscale (Adopted), Unnamed siblings with unknown whereabouts

Other Relatives: Unknown as of current

Pets: Ink (familiar), Edgar (demonic goat, not particularly her pet, but still loved like he is), two spectral owls, and various creatures made through experimentation with death magic

Traits — -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional Information — -

Smoking Habit: Frequent 

Drugs: As needed (in times of higher stress)

Alcohol: Frequent

RP Hooks — -

Greased Gears Tavern - For the past six to seven months, a group has been running a tavern/dive bar out of the Scarlet Raven in Darkshire. They hold a neutral disposition on most matters, and offer a sanctuary for those on both sides of life. Most of the time, they’re seeking bartenders and waiters, occasionally staff for entertainment. 

Malum - Malum Discordiae; a white-collar crime group who often utilize the aforementioned tavern as a front and means for hangout. Most types are welcome, from good, to neutral, to downright evil. Those in the underground may hear that the group sells anything ranging from cursed items, to protection, to various other contracts. The cuts are beneficial for both parties, and clean-up is often done well. 

Rumors & Reputation- By no means are Nyxaria’s hands clean; she carries the burden of many crimes of the past. There are plenty rumors circulating between the city to Duskwood and elsewhere. She has been the antagonist to several, and a kind heart to others. She has committed atrocities to the dead, raising them for her bidding. She has sacrificed others for power. She has betrayed, harmed, and otherwise and left a trail of pain in her wake. Some speak of past connections to a cult, others speak of her being cut-throat in how she runs her businesses. Rumors are what allow her to thrive. 

Familiar Face - Those who once walked among the Sin’dorei may recognize the woman’s face, though lacking in warmth to her complexion and a green pair of eyes. Much of her body has been altered and, while it can be chalked up to the mutations of the Void, it may seem more than that. (DM me if you’d like to set up a storyline for this!) 

What I’m looking for — -

Contacts - I’d like to build up Nyxaria’s list of contacts across Azeroth through RP. My aim is to have her function as a support character for those who need it. I have plenty of development going for her in her own story, I’d like to be able to help out those in their own stories where I can. 

Non-Romantic Relationships - Nyxaria is not one to browse and accept romantic relationships at a whim; she’s married. I’d like to build friendships for her- whether they are short and brief and turn into enemies or long-lasting. I want to explore every kind of ship you could imagine, from hatred to close family, to ‘just business’. 

Enemies / Antagonists - Got a guard character who is suspicious? Or someone within SI:7? Interested in playing an antagonist against a group of criminals? There’s no specific niche required with this type of plot; Nyxaria and her own folks are likely to have pissed someone off in the past, be it through several assaults or a single meeting.  ( OOC communication is required.)

Slice-of-Life - I enjoy slice-of-life and casual RP as much as I do controlled plots. Come and RP in Darkshire with me, or my character can invite yours to an outing! Hell, let’s have them browse Boralus for wares. Not everything has to be broody and serious; wholesome RP is amazing too!

Horror / Dark Plots - My character is a necromancer- but she’s also someone who is drawn to the darker corners of life itself. She’s enamored by the gruesome and the violent. While I do have limits to this particular type of RP, I’m more than happy to explore different scenarios. ( OOC communication is required.) 

OOC Information — -

Server: Wyrmrest Accord ( Alliance / Cross-Faction/Server accepted)

Character(s): Paradisiac (Main), Misfortunate (Alt)

I prefer to RP in-game or over Discord. Tumblr RP is difficult for me, but I can certainly try to keep up with it. DM me if you’d like my discord to RP. 

My schedule can change drastically sometimes, but I am online during the afternoon / early evenings / sometimes late evenings. 

I will not RP with minors; the themes portrayed with my character are not appropriate around them. 

[ayyymeric]

LFRP - Endo no Asura the White Oni

THE BASICS ––––

NAME: Endo no Asura/Asura Endo

AGE: ??? (Over 25)

RACE: Au Ra, Raen

ETHNICITY: Far-Eastern

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Homosexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single

SERVER: Mateus - Crystal

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––––

HAIR: Black

EYES: Golden, pupil-less

HEIGHT: 5′11″

BUILD: Lithe/thin with some muscle. Considered a runt.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Despite his occupation, Asura seems to have absolutely no scars. His torso is covered from the neck down to the back of his hands in tattoos. Upon closer inspection (if lucky enough), they seem to be religious sutras. 

COMMON ACCESSORIES: His dog Itazura.

PERSONAL ––––

PROFESSION: Executioner for the criminal ring Kami no Nai. If asked, he’ll simply state he’s a mercenary. Or ignore the question altogether. 

HOBBIES: Eating, sleeping, finding entertainment, general mischief

LANGUAGES: Common, Hingan

RESIDENCE: Kugane, Hingashi

BIRTHPLACE: Vaguely says somewhere in Yanxia.

PATRON DEITY: None

FEARS: Itazura choosing someone else to be it’s master.

RELATIONSHIPS –––-

SPOUSE: None

CHILDREN: His dog Itazura

PARENTS: ??????

SIBLINGS: ????

OTHER RELATIVES: ??????

PETS: Itazura (black Hayate), a raven he uses to sometimes send messages to his boss named Toriniku

TRAITS––––

extroverted / introverted /in between

disorganized / organized /in between

close minded /open-minded/ in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable /agreeable/ in between

cautious / reckless/ in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved /in between

leader /follower/ in between

empathetic/ unempathetic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic /in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy/in between

cultured /  un-cultured /in between

loyal /  disloyal / in between

faithful/ unfaithful / in between

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION––––

SMOKING HABIT: never/ sometimes/frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never/ sometimes/frequently/to excess.

ALCOHOL: never /sometimes/ frequently / to excess

GAMBLING: never/ sometimes / frequently / to excess

POSSIBLE HOOKS––––

■ “My Heart Is In the Far East” -- You are based in or do most of your business in Hingashi/Yanxia. Asura doesn’t travel much beyond Hingashi’s waters unless he’s told to. Eorzea is a stretch for him. He’s usually lazying about Kugane, drinking in it’s night life spots when duty lets him rest.

■ “The White Oni Haunts the Shadows” -- In the land of the Far East, Asura’s nickname is the “White Oni”; though he doesn’t normally flaunt his extra pair of horns in public anymore (much to the chiding of his boss, Bazutai), some are familiar with Asura’s attitude being that harsh or downright awful. If you’ve run into the demon of Kugane-Dori, you’ve had the unfortunate passings of Asura Endo. Else-wise some have heard rumors of him in battle, his cruelty, his ruthlessness and the cursed lance he carries. Very few have lived to tell the tales.

■ “Kami no Nai’s Orders Are Absolute” -- Asura is incredibly faithful to his crime ring’s leaders, listening only to Osai no Terugan and Uzuka no Bazutai. If you’re part of the underground or have some form of connections to KNN, they’ve heard of or interacted directly with Asura. 

WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR––––

■ Friends! Rivals! Asura doesn’t really call anyone his friend, it’s hard for him to fully understand the concept. But should he find someone interesting enough, he will usually haunt them and often.

■ Crime connections! Can’t do crime if you don’t have the capabilities, I guess. Asura doesn’t often scope out opportunities for his group as intel isn’t much of his forte, but if someone comes to him with an interesting enough offer he might bring it up to his big bro Bazutai.

OOCLY, I AM––––

an idiot. everyone knows this.

I have two other semi-active characters atm (Numei/Agniprava), but have been enjoying some time on Asura and would like to establish him a bit more.

I’m okay with the idea of shipping but Asura isn’t entirely the type to really feel love for someone. And he’s a garbage can. But I don’t want just shipping.

I’m up for plotting! Even pre-established relationships are fine.

I’m CST timezone as stated in other posts. I do work a lot and don’t have a rock-solid schedule (cause walmart is awful). I’m okay with discord RP as it gives me a bit of leeway given the lack of knowing what the fuck im doing till i have a schedule in my hands.

You can contact me here or IG on Asura Endo! (Mateus)

[grand-chamberlain]

Karl wrapped his jacket tight her around himself as he made his way through the underground. He had been there a few times before, but usually he had Ivan to guide him. This time he thought to surprise the taller man, but he wasn’t quite sure where he was. It all looked the same and he was beginning to be afraid that he was hopelessly lost.

Ivan seemed quite busy , running around working on the usual chores assigned to him ( that included cleaning up - in the hostile atmosphere of the underground headquarters , cooking , reading , or keeping the other rats entertained with his discordant humming ) . He was walking along the corridors with dirty walls , when he crossed the path of a raven-haired boy that seemed oddly familiar . Through the half darkness , Ivan showed him a bright smile as he approached , seeming more alert than usual .... Which meant anything but good . Intruders were not allowed there ... And the rodent did not seem like he recognized his own partner . When the boy stepped back , Ivan stopped and tilted his head to aside , the smile fading for a second .

❝  .. mysh' ? ❞